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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585331">The Loud, the Bright and the Beautiful</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4t1l1n4/pseuds/C4t1l1n4'>C4t1l1n4</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Getting Together, Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Immortal Roach (The Witcher), Love Confessions, M/M, POV Roach (The Witcher), Roach Ships It (The Witcher), Roach is Part Unicorn, Roach is the Best (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, mountain scene bullshit in chapter two</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:42:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4t1l1n4/pseuds/C4t1l1n4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaskier is 100% human. He's sure of it. So why is it that he doesn't age?</p><p>Perhaps, he isn't the right person to ask. </p><p>Roach POV</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>524</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Roach Plays Hero</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The loud one joins them one day and they can’t seem to get rid of him. </p>
<p>Her Witcher tries, he tries for months, rousing her from the hay covered comfort of a stall in the dead of night, riding to a different town with only the moon to guide them. But the loud one is relentless and finds them time and time again. </p>
<p>He fills up the silence her Witcher enjoys, plucking on his silly noisemaker for hours on end. After a while, it doesn’t make her ears hurt so much, and she flickers them intently, trying to pick up on where the silly, colorful boy is. He’s much easier to find, she thinks, than her Witcher, who tends towards dark colors and quiet footsteps. </p>
<p>She doesn’t mind the treats either. </p>
<p>Her Witcher warned the loud one away from her at first, with a rough threat of “Don’t touch Roach.” The loud one, it seems, doesn’t take orders very well. He charms her with sweet sugar cubes, crunchy red apples, and the soft drag of fingernails in the spot she can’t quite reach. Roach knows new humans have a tendency to throw sharp objects at her and her Witcher, but this one hasn’t yet, and he very, very slowly gains her trust. </p>
<p>She trades nipping at his fingers for nuzzling into his hair and biting at his bright colors for bumping her snout into his chest. He murmurs to her like her Witcher does, mostly nonsensical things, not expecting a response. He’s not attuned to her, not like her Witcher is, so she lets the loud one prattle on to himself. </p>
<p>He doesn’t like the quiet, she’s observed, he fills the silence when Geralt is out hunting, Roach left in charge to make sure the colorful boy doesn’t fall into harm's way. He doesn’t know, she supposes, that she’s left in charge when her Witcher leaves, but that’s how it’s always been and she’s not letting it change. So she keeps an eye on the boy as she grazes, watching him as he sits around the fire, plucking stray tunes on his lute. </p>
<p>Even after all these years, as the loud one grows and ages, she refers to him as boy. He could never compare to her or her Witcher; he’s a human after all. But he slowly loses his boyish features, and they part time and time again, winter after winter.  </p>
<p>It’s during one of these times, as she and her Witcher shiver against the cold, taking refuge from the storm in a rocky cliff face on their way to Kaer Morhen, that he tells her. It’s not entirely intentionally, she thinks, but she hears it nonetheless. </p>
<p>“I miss Jaskier.” Geralt admits to no one in particular, the crackle of the fire unable to drown out the longing in his tone. “He’d crack a joke or play a song.” Her Witcher huffs, dragging his blanket a little closer to the fire. “Keep me warm.” He pauses, staring into the flame for a bit, before shaking his head, as if erasing a thought. “Stupid, stupid.” he mutters, before directing he gaze over to Roach despairingly.  “What have we done getting attached to a human bard, huh Roach?”</p>
<p>And as her Witcher drifts off to sleep that night, she thinks she does not know. </p>
<p>She ponders that night, as the fire slowly dwindles down to nothing but ashes on the stone floor, that years have passed without her recognizing them, and humans live such pitifully short lives. Humans would outlive most horses, this she knows, but she also knows she is not most horses. She is part unicorn, though her Witcher does not know. She has no way of telling him, she supposes, and wonders how long it will take for him to catch on. Years pass just as mindlessly to him as they do for her. </p>
<p>And she thinks perhaps she will lend him some of her chaos when they see him again. Him, the loud one, the colorful boy who has brought joy into their life, music, and color into their rather black and white routine. Yes, she agrees, watching her Witcher shiver on the stone floor of the cavern, she will lend him some of her chaos and he will not age, and he will bring them warmth for many more years to come. </p>
<p>------<br/>
She saves him more than once, the boy has no self-preservation instinct, not like hers, refined after all the years traveling with her Witcher. His curiosity wins out more often than not, she thinks, watching him clutch at his lute as he pleads with her Witcher to let him come along. Her Witcher denies him at first, he always does, but the boy is persistent and her Witcher relents. He always does. </p>
<p>It’s a good thing she has a backbone strong enough for the both of them, or the loud one would be loud no more. </p>
<p>It’s not the first time the colorful boy has gotten into trouble, she thinks, remembering back to the hurried pace, the frantic tone of her Witcher’s voice as he cradled the boy in his arms, bright colors dulled with blood. It was a terrible sight, and an even more uncomfortable memory to see the loud one silent, panic radiating off him in waves. She sent a wave of calmness his way, lulled him to sleep on the ride to the nearest healer, but Djinn magic was out of even her control. </p>
<p>What monster her Witcher is fighting now, she does not know, but they are ghastly against the pale light of the moon, and reek of death, pain, and suffering. She does not worry for her Witcher, he will come out of this alive, but the loud one tends to stray from her side, especially when told not to. </p>
<p>He’s desperate for a closer look, wanting to see for himself. Why? She does not know. But the creatures are dangerous for a boy like him, who has no training like her Witcher. The loud one must stay with her, lest he gets hurt. </p>
<p>But the loud one does not listen, even as she tugs at his color with her teeth, wrangling him backward like a mother with her kitten. He whines and protests, but ultimately concedes, settling his noisemaker up against a nearby tree. </p>
<p>“You’re very right, Roach.” He says as if this was she had meant the whole time. “Bringing my lute with me would be a very bad idea.” And with that, he walks away towards the battle once more. </p>
<p>He doesn’t go too far, he must sense her annoyance, but she dare not stamp her feet to show her frustration. No need to distract her Witcher from his fight. The boy does not go far, but it is far enough away from the shelter of the trees, his bright colors reflecting in the moonlight, and drawing the attention of the ghastly figures in the graveyard. Her Witcher is preoccupied with most, but one slips away from the rest, spying the boy as an easy target. </p>
<p>She will not stand for her hard work to be undone, not after all this time and energy has been invested in keeping the boy the bright and happy spirited as he is. She will not allow one bout of stupidity to ruin this for her or her Witcher. </p>
<p>The monster gets one opportunity to strike, sharp claws landing a blow across the loud one’s shoulder before Roach kicks the creature - hard. The monster gets thrown yards back, clashing uselessly against the iron gate of the graveyard, and collapsing for her Witcher to dispose of later. She huffs and snorts, angered but satisfied, and turns back the boy carefully. </p>
<p>“Wow, Roach,” he says, something akin to awe glittering in his bright eyes. “That was impressive.” </p>
<p>But she has no time for such flattery, nudging him back into the shadows, bumping her snout against his chest. She ushers him over to the tree where his noisemaker lay, and knocks into him one last time, hard enough to knock him off his feet, but calculated to not jostle his injury. </p>
<p>“Ow, Roach!” He cries indignantly, but she has no patience for his offense.</p>
<p>She nuzzles at his hair softly in consolation, before nudging at his shoulder. The loud one hisses in pain, rusty blood staining his color. She doesn’t like it and knows her Witcher won’t either. She snorts quietly, pressing her nose against the side of his face. </p>
<p>“Hey,” He replies, just as softly, reaching up with his good hand to stroke her snout. “I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” He reassures. She just huffs once more, and nibbles at his hair. She may not have the ability to heal, but she can lessen his pain, and slow the bleeding until her Witcher arrives to help. </p>
<p>Something snaps behind her, and she shifts quickly, but cautiously, covering the boy and his colors with her body while turning her head to assess the threat. It’s just her Witcher, it turns out, eyes pitch black, but arms up placatingly. He doesn’t speak, but pats her head, and rest against her body. She indulges him for a moment, she knows not exactly what her Witcher takes, but they smell vile and leave him tense. She shifts after a minute or two, shoving her Witcher towards the loud one, who is suspiciously quiet, leaning up against the tree tiredly. </p>
<p>To be fair, the boy looks sheepish, right arm covered in blood, but between her Witcher’s care and her magic, he’ll be filling their silence with music again in no time. For now, however, her Witcher growls softly and rummages around in her saddlebag, before settling himself next to the boy and cleaning him up. </p>
<p>For now, she will watch over them as he works, as the camp is set up and a fire flickers into existence. </p>
<p>For now, she will keep them safe.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Roach Plays Matchmaker</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Her Witcher and his boy aren't going to get together without help.</p><p>Must she do everything around here?</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She has a bad feeling about this already. </p><p>Her Witcher, it appears, has taken a contract for a beast atop a very large hill. So large, it’s too tall, too treacherous, and too narrow for her to join them. She doesn't see how it is fair that the colorful one gets to go, while she remains tethered to the bottom of the hill, but she allows herself to be left behind anyway. </p><p>The angry girl is with them too. Her glowing purple eyes settle over her surroundings with disdain, and her fingers are too sharp; they do not give good scratches or treats like the loud one does. The angry girl also unsettles the loud one, says harshly barbed words about his appearance as if she hadn’t spent years helping the colorful one retain his brightness. </p><p>She doesn’t like her. </p><p>Her Witcher and the loud one travel up the tall hill together, but only her Witcher returns to her. </p><p>She doesn’t like it. </p><p>She can tell something is wrong as soon as her Witcher approaches. His face is furrowed in anger and in something else that her senses aren’t refined enough to tell. She noses at her Witcher hesitantly, and he absentmindedly pats her side but does not pay her much mind. </p><p>“Come on, Roach.” He says, not even bothering to hoist himself onto her back. She doesn’t move, trying to ask where the loud one is. It is too quiet for their small group, the air is too still, too reminiscent of cold winter nights spent alone. Her Witcher turns back but doesn’t say anything until she stamps her feet and shakes her head. Something akin to recognition flickers through his eyes. “Roach…” He doesn’t say anything for a bit, instead choosing to step closer, grabbing ahold of her reigns. “Jaskier isn’t coming with us.” </p><p>Why the loud, colorful boy isn’t coming with them, she cannot say, but it seems to be the final words on the matter as her Witcher tugs at her reigns, guiding them away from the large hill.</p><p>She finds out days later when her Witcher is rummaging through the bags on her back and pulls out something that undeniably belongs to the boy. Her Witcher tenses, holding it in his hands. It’s a shirt, she thinks, a spare soft shirt stowed at the bottom of their belongings for emergencies. </p><p>She nudges at his hand, nibbling at the fabric in question. </p><p>Her Witcher stares at the object with something like remorse coloring his tone. “It’s my fault, Roach.” He says after a while, holding onto the shirt tighter, as if he let it go, it would disappear just how the loud one had, leaving them silent once more. “I got mad, and yelled at him.” Her Witcher tears his gaze away from the fabric, choosing to look at the ground instead. “I told him- I told him he was the source of all my problems.” He admits, and suddenly it’s like he can’t even bear to look at the offending piece of fabric, and it gets shoved ruthlessly back into the bag, jostling its position on her back. </p><p>He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t care to fill in the gaps, and she just hooks her snout over his shoulder, pulling him closer. She thinks, if Witchers could cry, perhaps hers would right now. But he doesn’t. Instead, he just wraps an arm around her neck and rests his face against her. </p><p>She tries not to think about how quiet it is. </p><p>------<br/>
She gives her Witcher a month, she decides, to come to terms with his mistakes and fix them but he seems resolute not to bother the loud one. She will not let that stand, not after all the work she has put into preserving his life, his color, his noise. She will not let either of them suffer any longer. She misses stolen treats, secret conversations, the small hum of the noisemaker late at night. </p><p>She has noticed her Witcher’s unending sadness, colored with guilt and fear, for even though he has not told her, she knows the way her Witcher fears for the loud one. She has seen the frantic treatment of him when the boy gets too close to a fight, fear turning into anger because anger is easier to deal with. She has seen the huffed exasperation as the colorful one starts unnecessary fights with others over her Witcher’s treatment, though she does not see them as unnecessary, because her Witcher deserves what the boy advocates for. And she has heard both sides of secret conversations, each ones’ longing for the other, the hurt in her Witcher’s eyes when the loud one comes back with his smell tainted by someone else.   </p><p>And she will not let it stand. </p><p>So she tracks the smell. The colorful boy has an equally colorful scent, filled with various flowers, chamomile and rosemary, honeysuckle and buttercups. She follows the smell, ignoring her Witcher’s upset grunts and inquiries of confusion. This will not stand as long as she has something to say about it. </p><p>It takes them half a cycle longer than she would like before she finally narrows down the flowers to a certain town, a certain tavern, and ushers her Witcher inside. He ties her to a post outside, complying as she nudges him past the message board and into the tavern where the loud one plays. Her Witcher walks inside, and immediately back out again, untying Roach from the post. </p><p>She does not move. </p><p>“Roach.” Her Witcher hisses, something close to guilt covered panic filling his voice. “Jaskier is in there.” </p><p><em>Yes,</em> she thinks, rather annoyed. <em>That’s the point.</em> But she cannot express her distaste for her Witcher in this way, so she settles for shoving him towards the door of the tavern again, harder this time. </p><p>She understands his fear, the human’s life is way too short, and her Witcher is too afraid to get attached, or - rather - admit that he’s gotten attached already, the same way she has. But if he’ll take the time to apologize and set things back the way they are supposed to, the way that she cannot, then she will show how she returns her end of the deal and keep the boy young. </p><p>“Ah, Geralt.” The loud one says from behind her Witcher’s back. Her Witcher tenses, shooting her an unamused glare, before turning to face the loud one. </p><p>“Jaskier.” He says, voice tense. </p><p>“Just traveling through?” The boy asks conversationally, but his voice is falsely polite. She already tires of their games.  She trots over to the boy and nuzzles at him affectionately. “Well,” he says, tone lightening a bit. “Hello there.” He reaches up and strokes her nose. “Did you miss me?” </p><p>She snorts affirmatively, pushing a little harder against his hand. A smile lights up the colorful one’s face.</p><p>“I did too, Roachie girl.” He says softly. “I did too.” </p><p>Her Witcher stands off to the side and doesn’t say anything. </p><p>“Well,” The loud one steps back, carefully extracting himself from her. “I suppose I better get going.” His gaze flickers over to Geralt for a second, before it lands on her again, giving her one last pat on the nose. “Nice seeing you again.” </p><p>He turns to walk away, but she will not let him escape, not when her Witcher has not fixed his mistake yet. She carefully, but firmly, grips the sleeve of the boy’s color and pulls. He stumbles a bit, forced back towards her Witcher. The loud one turns to her, confused and caught off guard. </p><p>“Roach?” He asks, eyes flickering between her and her Witcher, who is looking at her quite the same. </p><p>“She’s been acting weird for a few weeks now.” Her Witcher finally says. </p><p>She huffs in annoyance. So her Witcher notices, but still hasn’t figured out why. Must she do everything herself?</p><p>She shoves the colorful boy once more, hard enough to have him stumbling forward, nearly knocking him off his feet. Her Witcher, heroic as ever, races forward and catches the boy before he can collide with the ground. The pair just stay like that, both staring at each other, the boy flushing pink. They eventually snap out of their trance, and her Witcher helps the loud one to his feet, though his hands remain on his shoulders. </p><p>Still, her Witcher doesn’t realize, so she nudges his head, trying to get him to understand.</p><p>“Roach?” Her Witcher asks, attention drawn away from the colorful boy for a moment. </p><p>“I think she wants you to do something.” The boy posits, sounding nervous. She underestimated his ability, she thinks. He is catching on faster than her Witcher, that’s for sure. </p><p>It takes a few moments, but it seems to dawn on her Witcher, and he stares at her bewildered. “Is this what you’ve been doing?” He asks, surprise lining his voice. “Dragging me around to find Jaskier,” His gaze flickers over to the boy for a moment, before returning to stare at her. “So I-“ He cuts himself off as everything clicks into place.</p><p>She snorts affirmatively once more, stomping her foot impatiently. <em>Men,</em> she thinks, letting her mind drift off as her Witcher starts to apologize.</p><p>------<br/>
It takes her a few more months to keep her end of the deal. </p><p>Admittedly, she had forgotten about it, as her Witcher and his colorful boy have well past made up at this point, and noise fills the air once more. It will follow them well into the winter this year, she thinks, and she is happy that her Witcher will be warm. </p><p>It’s the loud one’s screech that pulls her from the - rather delicious - clump of clovers in front of her, drawing her attention to where he sits at the river nearby.</p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, indignant and affronted. “I have a gray hair.” </p><p>Those words send ice through her system, freezing her where she stands. Her Witcher seems equally tense, now at his colorful boy’s side, dragging him into a standing positon, fingers digging through chestnut hair. </p><p>“It’s just one.” Her Witcher says after a while, almost as if trying to placate himself.</p><p>“Geralt,” The boy whines. “Gray hair! I’m getting old.”</p><p>Her Witcher tenses at the words once more, and she can feel the pain radiating off of him in waves, unnerved by the implications. It is time for her to keep her promise. She makes her way over to the pair and practically shoves her nose between them. </p><p>“Oh, Roach.” the loud one says, “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to startle you with my screaming.”</p><p>She simply nuzzles against him in response, causing the boy to laugh, and forces months of lost magic into him. She makes sure her Witcher watches the years fall off of the boy, making him far younger than he has looked in a while. She steps back satisfied as her Witcher glances between her and his colorful boy in awe. </p><p>“Roach,” He says, fingers reaching up to card through soft hair once more, searching for the gray hair that is no longer there. “Did you just-“ he doesn’t say anything else but rather answers his boy’s confusion with a kiss on the lips.</p><p>The loud one makes a squeak in surprise, but doesn’t resist, but melts into it rather quickly. </p><p>“Not that I’m complaining,” The boy says when they break apart, “But what exactly did Roach do in order to elicit a response like that?” </p><p>“Go- go look at your reflection.” Her Witcher says in lieu of a proper response. </p><p>Roach snickers. </p><p>“Geralt!” The loud one exclaims once more, looking up at her Witcher from where he crouches next to the water. “I look like I’m in my 20s again.” </p><p>They both turn to stare at her incredulously. </p><p>“Geralt.” The boy stands, settling himself next to her Witcher. “My dearest Witcher. Does Roach have magic and you didn’t tell me?” </p><p>“I don’t know.” Her Witcher says, continuing to stare at her, even as she walks back to the patch of clovers she was enjoying earlier. “There were rumors of unicorns living in the woods near the town I bought her from, but I always assumed they were just spread to drum up business.” </p><p>“Unicorns?!” The loud one cries, distressed. “Geralt, are you meaning that this entire time you knew unicorn existed and you <em>didn’t think to tell me?!”</em> </p><p>------<br/>
The boy calls Geralt <em>His</em> Witcher again, teasingly one night over the flickering flame of the fire. </p><p>Something indignant wells up inside her, as the Witcher had always been <em>hers</em>, but as she watches her Witcher flush at the term of endearment, she thinks that perhaps - just this once - she can share.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I always unintentionally end up making Yennefer low key the bad guy or paint her in a bad light. Sorry Yen stans.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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